


Before I Sleep

by decaydentdeer



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fix It Fic, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, character study of a sorts, no romance planned as of now, pale king do not interact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22098811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decaydentdeer/pseuds/decaydentdeer
Summary: They've failed their only purpose, but no one is left to judge them. What do you do with a life you never even knew you wanted?The events transpiring after the Dream No More ending and transitioning to the Embrace the Void ending, except heavily idealized and a sort of character study for the hollow knight. Not everybody is introduced yet, but hopefully more at some point.
Relationships: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet & The Knight
Comments: 41
Kudos: 285





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i got possessed by the need to see a fic like this and wrote this at 2 am

They remembered waking up. The blessed darkness meeting their eyes, and the cool and musty air that still reeked of the infection that had permeated them and Hallownest. The silence unbroken by a godly roar, and the lack of chains. They had wanted to cry then, but years of practice kept them silent. How long had it been? Was there even a Hallownest to be saved? Would their father- would their King- despise them for their failure?

The now unsealed vessel’s reverie was broken by the sounds of rustling fabric and someone sighing. A sudden fear that they were prone to another attack urged them to their feet, finding them unsteady after so long spent in chains. Heavily leaning on their great nail, they peered alertly at this new threat. The spider princess, their half-sibling stood there against all odds. She appeared weakened by the egg, no doubt on account of her being made of flesh and carapace, but she held their gaze like one ready to fight an entire army.

“I take it that the little ghost succeeded.” She said bluntly, moving carefully to retrieve her nail that had been thrown a few feet away. Her eyes never left the larger bug, but the Knight made no move except to lean a bit more comfortably on the great nail. Hornet risked a glance towards where the little vessel had stood, and had her fears confirmed upon seeing the cracked and brittle edges of their mask. The Knight recognized the hidden sorrow upon her face and surmised that she had formed an unlikely connection with the vessel. Sacrifice was the purpose of a vessel and the little one had fulfilled it, and yet the princess seemed upset.

Focusing on the present, she turned again to the Knight. They still had not moved from where they stood and instead stared at her through the cracked and crumbling mask they wore. She approached then, slowly and carefully. They couldn’t believe how much she had grown during their time in the black egg. Her horns curved gracefully now, and while her movement and savage grace in battle sung of her mother, they could see in her demeanor the same grave dignity and genius they knew to be of the King. They wondered at that moment if the King had designated her as an heir yet. It seemed most likely, but she wore no palace ivory or carried a brand.

“Do you… Do you remember me?” Hornet asked lowly. They nodded, inwardly wincing at the pain that moving their head caused. It would be a long time before they were well again, they could tell.

“Good. Is it really gone?” At this question, she seemed to hold her breath. They reached inside, trying to sense that same raging inferno that had become as close to their being as the void that constituted them. Nothing but the ache and slow bleeding of wounds. They had no idea that pain like this could feel so ecstatic as they nodded again, faster this time. Hornet let out the breath that she had been holding and relaxed her shoulders. “You are wounded.” She stated flatly, gesturing to the gaping holes in their chest. They glanced down, and then returned her gaze. This was true, but they were flawed and it wouldn’t be prudent to waste resources on such a damaged vessel. She sighed and gestured impatiently for them to follow her as she started her own unsteady walk towards the exit.

They hesitated a moment, betraying their thoughts. They were meant to spend the rest of their existence here. They were meant to die here. Truly, the outside world wasn’t something they were allowed. Hornet turned back to them, and they resolved themselves. It wasn’t their place to decide what was to be done with them. The King would know and they would accept his judgment without question. Hornet would take them to the King and they would face their failure.

They took slow heavy steps and re-entered Hallownest. Hornet guided them through once familiar caverns, but she kept ascending. She likely was taking them to a stagway station, should there be one left. However, they were stopped by the carnage caused by the infection spread out in front of them, and they felt their legs go weak. So much had been destroyed. They could see the husks of infected bugs strewn carelessly next to large pustules of infected fluid, like dolls abandoned by a child. Guilt surged through them, and they almost collapsed. Had nothing been spared? Did their weakness truly doom everything?

Hornet, sensing their distress, quickly grabbed their remaining arm.

“Stay Focused.” She commanded, and then her gaze softened. “There are still living to attend to.” This news grounded them. There was the living to still protect, there was nothing they could do now for the dead. She was right, and they once again berated themselves for showing emotion. Truly they had become flawed indeed.

They continued the trek upwards, with Hornet assisting the badly injured Knight. They didn’t understand why she didn’t leave them in the Black Egg, but at the moment they decided they were grateful. Hornet was struggling too, and they both had to take multiple rests that lengthened the time it took before they reached their goal. Hornet once again steeled herself and took a hold of the old and rusted chain.

“I will go first and help pull you up as best as I can, but I’m going to need your help if we’re going to get you up there.” She says seriously. They take comfort in the fact that she has thought of a plan already, and nod. She scales the chain, slower than she might normally and then peered over the edge. “Go ahead!” She called down to them, and they sling the great nail on their back and take a hold of the chain. They peer upwards, skeptically looking at the size of the tunnel they were to go through. They were almost too big to fit through it comfortably, and they found themselves wishing Hornet had found a better way to get to where she was going. They banished that thought as quickly as it came, and tried to pull themselves upwards.

They could feel Hornet straining on the other end of the chain, and they braced their legs against the wall and tried to crawl upwards. If they only had enough soul to somehow heal or even just dash upwards, they could make it. However, they didn't, and it was a torturous climb upwards in which they almost fell twice. They got their hand on the lip of the exit and pulled themselves upwards with a shove. Hornet dodged them neatly as they collapsed onto the solid ground, dislodging bricks from the decrepit well that led down into Hallownest.

The Knight panted heavily for a moment, and Hornet waited. They appreciated her patience with their broken state but didn’t understand it. They slowed their breath, and rose again, feeling every injury in their body anew. They put their hand to their chest and were rewarded with the strange feeling of void leaking from it. They would be worried if they weren’t so relieved that it wasn’t a burning gold. They heard a small cough and looked upwards to see an elderly bug gazing upwards at them in astonishment.

“I am Hornet, Protector of Hallownest, and they mean no harm. We are going to bunk in one of the houses.” Hornet commanded. “And we need a healer. Please.” She added, kinder this time.

“We don’t have much in the way of healers left here, but perhaps the Troupe could help.” The elder bug suggested, holding out his hands placatingly and nervously glancing back up at the Knight.

“Are you absolutely sure there isn’t anyone else here?” she sighs, shifting from one leg to the other. She was tired, and probably needed rest as much as they did.

“A shopkeeper sells some medicinal supplies, but the Troupe is the only thing we have close to a real healer.” He said simply, and Hornet shook her head irritatedly. What had this troupe done to merit such ire from the princess? They found themselves curious and realizing this, they promptly quashed it. It was no business of theirs. They merely were to exist long enough for the King to express his displeasure in their failure.

“Very well.” She hisses, and takes their arm gently and starts to lead them towards the large scarlet tents on the edge of town. They move numbly, starting to feel incredibly weak as the void continued to fall away gently, like steam from a spring.

The tents themselves were beautiful in a way that the Knight had never known. While the palace of their birth had been stately and grand, the tents were gaudy, bright, and welcoming. The glittering flames ensconced on torches surrounded them as they continued, bathing the area in red light and dancing shadows. They felt a sense of unease start to sink in. The warmth here was familiar, and in a way they had hoped not to feel again. Hornet pats them on the arm in an uncharacteristic show of encouragement, and they wonder if it wasn’t so much for them as it was for her. She lead them onward to the main tent and drew the curtain aside.

“Grimm! Grimm, are you there?” She called out into the velvet fabric walls, and they peer in after her to see a lushly decorated interior. They couldn’t recall a circus ever coming to Hallownest, but then again, they don’t hardly remember there being a town above Hallownest either. A burst of scarlet flame burst upwards from the ground in front of them, and instinctively they both drew their weapons. They were surprised when it resolved itself into the shape of a cloaked figure.

“Well met, Princess, well met!” The stranger cried joyfully, his voice rasping so much as to make every word a growl. Hornet sheathed her weapon, and the Knight followed. Was this being her ally? It was a being. This was no simple bug. The Knight could feel the feverish heat radiating off of the stranger, and it made them deeply uncomfortable.

“I appreciate your theatrics Grimm, but we need to see a healer if you have one,” Hornet said impatiently. Grimm’s eyes widened, and he finally turned his gaze to the Knight as they stood protectively by her side.

“The Hollow Knight.” He mused quietly, some unknown emotion passing through his face before he brightened up and gestured urgently for them to enter. “I must confess, Brumm is the only one of us with knowledge in healing. I simply draw Focus from the scarlet flame to heal, but I do not know if that will work for your companion as it would for you.” Grimm explained, dramatically pulling aside a few curtains to a larger area where another strange masked bug played music. Upon their entrance, the music stopped and the bug rose to meet them, their unsettling mask tilted in confusion.

“Good friends, they need our help! Brumm, Do you remember where I last put the healing supplies?” Grimm worried aloud, already striding off to go dig through the troupe’s belongings. The larger bug, who must have been Brumm, sighed deeply and gestured for them to sit. Hornet did so, and the Knight followed slowly after. Brumm did not speak but moved to treat the Knight first with some simple spider silk that he apparently carried with him. They protested, as surely Hornet deserved care first. She was not made out of void, and would need the care much more than they. Hornet, however, had gotten out her own spider silk and was carefully wrapping it around some deeper cuts and stared at them. The message was loud and clear, and they quieted down sheepishly and let the larger bug attend to them.

Brumm worked in silence, seeming to prefer the quiet. It was disturbed soon after by another shower of flame that announced Grimm’s arrival. The Knight wondered if that was simply a part of his Focus that it was so flashy, or if perhaps he did it on purpose. They supposed it might as well be both.

“I grabbed the whole chest, so there’s enough here for you both to go back through hell about nine times,” Grimm said with a smile, opening a medium chest and methodically handing things to Brumm. “I must say, I am very curious to see if the Heart could heal a void being.”

Hornet glared at him, and the Knight supposed that the Heart must be whatever god or higher being that fueled him. Was Grimm not the higher being? Why hadn’t the Pale King banished the whole troupe from the kingdom? There’s no way that the King would be comfortable having such a powerful being so near to his beloved kingdom.

“They're not your next experiment.” She says bitterly, and Grimm raises his hands in supplication before handing Brumm some more spider silk as he moves on to bandaging what was left of their other arm.

“Of course not,” Grimm says smoothly. “I merely meant that it's been a long time since I interacted with Void, and I do not wish to hurt them any more than they have been already.”

Hornet levels a stare at the troupe master and then turns to the Knight.

“Grimm wants to try using his Focus to heal the worst of your wounds.” She explains, wincing as she tests a particularly sore muscle on her forearms. The Knight nods in agreement. They will do whatever Hornet wants for now until they are able to see the King again. Grimm approached slowly and again that strange emotion passed over his face upon gazing at the Knight.

“This will feel like your foe once did, and I ask you not to reject it or the healing will not take.” He says solemnly, and the Knight peers into him fearlessly. They had no wish to feel the heat of that god’s rage ever again, but they needed to be strong enough to make it back to their King’s court. They also didn’t trust this being, and it was apparent that Hornet didn’t either. Grimm stretched out a clawed hand and placed it on top of the Knight’s mask. “You ought to take another visit to the mask maker.” He remarked idly, and then a wave of intense heat and light washed over the Knight.

If they had had a voice, they would have screamed in agony. Grimm hadn’t lied, it felt so similar to their torment. The intense heat and blinding light scoured their wounds and all they wanted was for it to stop. It was over in an instant, but after an eternity containing such a light, it was unbearable. They found themselves clutching their great nail like a lifeline, and Hornet standing protectively in between them and Grimm.

“Huh.” Was all that Grimm had to say, and Hornet shot him a look so deadly that the Knight wondered if it would have slain a lesser bug. They peered down at their many wounds and saw that some had knitted themselves back together, but the ones that hadn’t seemed to bleed more void than before.

“You made it worse!” Hornet accused, shaking with rage.

“I sincerely doubt that I could make them worse even if I tried. They rejected it!” Grimm defended, somewhat childishly. Hornet hadn’t changed much, the Knight thought fondly as the room began to spin. They remembered when the King had refused to let her practice with her needle in the Palace as a child, and the temper tantrum that followed had been legendary. The palace did not know silence for days before the king finally designated a courtyard for her training. They hit the ground as they fell back from their sitting position. They no longer could sit up and found that the world itself had started to fade. They heard Hornet cry out in anger again, but all they could do was wonder why they hadn’t gone home to the palace for help. Where was their father? Why hadn’t he come if the seals had been broken? They relinquished their consciousness to the darkness, confused and exhausted.

“I suppose that is a bit worse than before.”


	2. Chapter 2

They awoke this time to hushed voices and dim cold light. They had been moved from the strange circus, and now seemed to be in a small home lit only by a fireplace to their left. They stayed where they were, mentally taking stock of all their wounds. Whatever the troupe leader had done to them, it had both weakened them further and healed the worst of their wounds. The pit in their side where the worst of the infection had been ached. The pain was something in between a cut and a burn and stopped them from returning to their blissfully dreamless sleep. They didn’t move, the exhaustion in their shell greater than any motivation to ask for help or even just twitch.

“I have to say, I know a lot more about what goes into making a vessel than I do about fixing one.” A warm voice chuckled nearby, drawing the Knight’s attention.

“Either way, you’re about all we have left in the way of scholars around here.” A familiar tone responded, Hornets voice sounding much softer than before. This news distressed the Knight. Had the archives fallen as well? What did that mean for Hallownest and the Palace? A sudden fear struck them that perhaps the Palace itself had been overrun with the infection. At the thought of such blasphemy visited on their home, they shifted enough to raise their head, intending to finally ask about their home. Hornet and the stranger turned towards them in surprise and the Knight was surprised to see the scholar was only just a commoner.

“Hello there, I am known as Quirrel,” The blue pill bug said genially, waving from where he sat at the small table. “Your red-coated friend here asked me to help with your current condition.” The Knight nodded slowly, continually confused at the company the princess kept. It was good that she treated all her subjects with respect, but being on first-name basis with a carnival leader and then to call upon a common bug to play doctor? They supposed that it had been a long time in the egg, and that was enough explanation for them for now. It wasn’t the business of a vessel anyway.

“I’m afraid that I don’t have all of the Madam’s research on the vessel project, so I don’t even know if it’s possible for them to reconstitute their limb,” Quirrel explained. “Something must be stopping the void in their being from healing itself.” 

Was that true? They hadn’t tried to use their Focus yet at all, due to a lack of Soul and presence of mind. They moved carefully to their knees as Hornet watched carefully, and gestured shakily at their abdomen.

“I figured you might want something when you woke up.” She said with a small amount of amusement in her voice. “Here’s a tiktik that Elderbug caught ruining his garden.” She handed over the small spined would-be felon, and they took it in one large claw and crushed it effortlessly. With the give of the shell, they breathed in the small amount of soul deeply. Not exactly a feast, but still the first real breath of soul they had had since the King had sealed them away. They looked up to see Quirrel looking surprisingly unperturbed by this method of “eating”. He must have some more knowledge of Soul than the average bug then if this show of what must have seemed like wanton destruction didn’t unnerve him. 

“Why don’t you try healing now, if you’ve finished that is.” Quirrel reminded them mildly. They nodded again and Focused. For a second, it seemed as it had been, a reassuring pale light and the strange sensation of void rearranging itself back into their form. But it wasn’t enough somehow, and the spell itself fizzled out as if they hadn’t consumed anything at all. This was… not ideal. It wasn’t unexpected, they knew they were damaged and perhaps beyond repair. They laid back against the wall of the hut, at a loss for what seemed like the twentieth time in the last day and a half. They could lose a fight to that same tiktik they had crushed, and there may be no way to bring them back. Hornet looked over them with concern, and Quirrel sighed.

“I had hoped that I was wrong but it seems what I can remember was correct.” He lamented. “The only other information that we would have on their condition would be the Archives.” The Archives? Why would it be there? Why wouldn’t they just take them to the palace and have the King do as he will?

“That’s uncharacteristic of my father to let knowledge like that have another record not in his own language.” Hornet mused.

“He told the Madam to destroy it, but she was as stubborn as a Baldur when it came to her records.” Quirrel chuckled in response.

“That seems in line with what I can remember as well.” Hornet agreed. “I suppose it would be a short journey by stag, but I don’t know if I want to leave the Knight that long.” There was a heavy silence from the other end of the table. She caught Quirrel’s gaze with her own and he fidgeted with some stray spider silk left on the table. “You don’t have to go back there. I’ll work it out somehow.” She said quietly. Quirrel turned back towards the Knight, who stared back at them impassionately. They did not care about the ramifications of the Teacher’s possible treason, and in a somewhat immature fashion, they did not care about whatever else the others had to say. They were truly broken, and Hornet seemed to refuse to help them on their way to the Palace. If Hornet thought to hide them from the Pale King’s wrath like she had when they were young, then it was a doomed effort. It would be better if she ended them herself rather than make excuses for their mortal flaws.

They raised their hand and grabbed Hornet’s attention and quickly tried to think about how they would communicate their need to return to the King. They raised their hand to their head and tried to imitate the crown.

“You want… a hat.” Hornet said flatly. They shook their head quickly and winced a little bit at the pain that bloomed at the movement. 

“You want a new mask?” Quirrel tried, perking up from where he sat. They shook their head again, slower this time.

“Obviously they want a new mask,” Hornet said, massaging the space between her eyes in frustration. “In all his cleverness, my father never thought to give his vessels the ability to mime well.” They would have huffed at that, could they have made any noise at all. They would like to see her try to do this with one hand.

“Why don’t you try drawing it in the dirt?” Quirrel suggested, pointing at the space in front of them. Ah, that probably would be a better idea.

They carefully traced a crude rendition of what they could remember as the other two watched. 

“You want to see the Pale King,” Hornet said quietly as Quirrel shared an unreadable glance with her. They nodded in relief. Finally, she would do as was only right and return them to the King for his judgment. Hornet sighed deeply and kneeled down in front of them. This was strange, why would the Princess kneel to just a vessel? She always had been more sentimental than the Pale King liked. 

She was still so small in comparison to the height of the Knight, and they felt a sting of affection for her that they desperately tried to quash. It was just loyalty to their princess, and that was all. 

“The White Lady and the Pale King- Our father- disappeared shortly after the infection started to spread. As far as anyone knows, he is dead.” She said solemnly. A shock like being plunged into the cold waters of the gutters in the City of Tears crawled down their spine. They couldn’t reconcile this new truth with what they knew of the King. The Pale King was a higher being, a god! There was no way the infection could have killed something like him.

Which meant the alternative. He had abandoned Hallownest. He had abandoned his Hollow Knight. 

They didn’t realize that they had been shaking until they collapsed forward, covering their shattered eye with their hand. Hornet said nothing, but gently hugged their large form. They had done all of this, everything they had done, for him. The training, the restraint, and their sacrifice had been for the being they had secretly thought of as a father. They had doomed their own father through their weakness and he had left them.

They stayed curled up that way through the evening, Quirrel excusing himself after having a hushed conversation outside of the hut with Hornet. She had returned then, her expression inscrutable. There was no pity in her eyes, and the Knight felt grateful. They don’t think they could have stood to be the object of her pity. She quietly went about the kitchen, fixing herself a simple meal while they stayed where they were. A statue of void, frozen in grief and confusion. What were they to do now? The Radiance was gone, they had survived the black egg, and now they had not even their King to guide them. They were a weapon, finely crafted and honed, and now broken and absolutely purposeless. 

They had been abandoned. This time, forever. Even this grief was a painful slap in the face. They felt sad. They had emotion, and it was agonizing. The “pure” vessel, distraught over the loss of its creator. Truly a mockery of everything they had tried to stand for. 

Hornet quietly sat beside them again and checked the bandages wrapped around their chest and stump of an arm. They looked at her, the most movement that they had done since the news was broken.

She was somber and composed, but her hands worked gently. They realized then, that she had lost her mother at the same time that they had gone into the egg. They had only met Herrah once when she had come to the palace on a rare occasion. Herrah had been a large bug, and seeing the Pale King next to her had been amusing to the White Lady. The Pale King had presented them to her, introducing them simply as a “work in progress”. She had sized them up in the moment and immediately attacked them. Her blades moved so fast they were reminiscent of the saw blades the Pale King utilized during their training. They remember feeling nothing but confused at her behavior until they had effectively stood their ground. The spider queen had laughed then, a large warm sound that had echoed through the pristine halls. Then, she had patted them soundly on the head, remarking that “perhaps my child will best you on my behalf one day”. 

It was the sort of approval they never got, and they remembered frantically shoving down feelings of happiness. Perhaps they had never been pure. 

Hornet finished rebandaging the wounds that had bled through the bandages and turned to put her hands towards the fire. Void was freezing to a mortal bug, and they were grateful for her help. The firelight glinted off her face, and in it, they could see only determination. 

The King had left, but she had stayed. All these years, and Hornet and the Little Ghost has come back for them. Had died for them, in the latter’s case. They got Hornet’s attention by gently tapping her shoulder, and painstakingly scratched their message in the dirt floor.

“You’re welcome.” She said, and leaned into them. They felt immense comfort at this, and at that moment they resolved to serve her as they had their father. She was the last surviving royal left and had earned their loyalty. She was also their sister, and in a rare moment of weakness, they let themselves feel love for her while they drifted again to sleep.

  
  
  


HE HAS LEFT YOU, YOU KNOW.

…

THE WYRM HAS GOTTEN HIS WAY AND YOU SHALL ROT HERE IN THIS DAMNED EGG WITH ME.

…

I SUPPOSE YOU’RE HAPPY WITH THIS. TO BE FORGOTTEN AND USED BY THOSE THAT SHOULD LOVE YOU?

…

IT’S PATHETIC. YOU’RE PATHETIC.

…

VOID! THE SEA OF DARKNESS! THAT-WHICH-ISNT! AND NOW IT’S HARNESSED AND TREATED AS A LAP DOG. HOW ABSOLUTELY HUMILIATING.

…

YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HARDLY ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE, DO YOU? 

…

REALLY, I SHOULD PITY YOU I SUPPOSE.

…

WHY AM I EVEN TALKING TO YOU? IT’S NOT LIKE YOUR “THOUGHTS” ARE EVEN INTERESTING ENOUGH TO MERIT MY ATTENTION.

…

IF I HAD WANTED TO SPEND AN ETERNITY THINKING ABOUT THE WYRM I WOULD HAVE DONE WHAT THAT WHITE FOOL HAD DONE AND GONE TO HIS BED.

…

OH, NO REACTION TO INSULTING YOUR MOTHER EITHER? YOU ARE A SPINELESS IDIOT.

…

YOU’RE RIGHT, IM ABOVE SUCH INSULTS. MAYBE I'LL ENTERTAIN MYSELF WITH ANOTHER ROUND OF TRYING TO BREAK YOUR FRAGILE LITTLE BODY.

…

  
  
  
  


They awoke from the nightmare, shuddering and choking on their own fear. Hornet still lay beside them, but the fire had burnt down to just scarlet embers. They moved quietly so as not to disturb her, and with a hand they smothered it completely. The darkness was soothing, and they felt reality creep back in. They carefully searched themselves again for any hint, any trace that the ancient evil had come back. Nothing but the protest of their injuries. Nothing. 

They sat down again by their sister, but resolved not to sleep. They would keep watch until the morning, and avoid any such dreaming. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for some suicidal ideation, its not too intense but thought id tag just in case

The next few days were one long pattern repeating itself for the Hollow Knight. Hornet would wake up, check their bandages, and then go out to hunt and barter with the local shopkeepers. They were to stay put until a decision had been reached or the worst of their wounds healed. Quirrel had dropped by the first day, struggling to hold a vengefly that he had somehow caught, and offered it to the Knight. They had taken it and absorbed its soul and then nodded graciously in thanks. Quirrel apparently then took it as an affirmation to start chattering at them some sort of speech about dealing with loss. Perhaps in another time, they would have been more gracious, or more inclined to pretend to be pure, but their patience was frankly very thin. They had opened the door for him in a rare spurt of movement, and he took the hint. Quirrel had left then, but the Knight suspected that they had offended him. Either way, they were thankfully left alone from then on. 

The days dragged on without Hornet in the house, and they laid on the dirt floor of the hut staring out of the window. The sky was not often sunny, but it was enough to just watch the clouds themselves twist and shape themselves in a mass. The cool air was a blessing on their infection caused wounds, and they were grateful for the window left open. Perhaps they preferred a lack of light now. What a blasphemous thought. They felt guilty for the fact that they apparently cared about even the weather now. Truly, a failure to their King indeed. 

Except he wasn’t around now either. No one was left to really understand the depths of the disaster that the Pure Vessel really was. It was for the best, really. Their King would have looked at them and only have seen how they had made a mockery of his authority and power. They wanted nothing more in those moments then to simply be destroyed. To be punished completely for what they were. To have died within the egg in an unwilling battle. It would have been better to have died serving the King when they were truly pure than to live as they did now.

However, they did not move. They often caught themselves in this mood and found it abhorrent. A Vessel, mourning its creator? A laughable notion. They might as well turn and ask the teapot sitting askew on the table if it too missed Hornet while she was away. 

Regardless, these moods filled the days and the only respite came when they found themselves doing as they had when they were young and became without a mind. As if it all was underwater and they could observe impassionately from a distance. The clouds continued to swirl far, far, far above them and they let the world fade from focus as they continued to lay in the dirt and watch.

It was better when Hornet came back in the evenings. The warmth and life returned to the hovel, and they often found themself sitting up or moving for the first time that day. She always brought back something for them to “eat”, but less often did she bring back relics of the old kingdom. This evening, she handed them another tiktik which they neatly killed by crushing its head and handed it back to her. She had no need of the soul like they did, but she still needed sustenance and they were glad to share.

“Thanks,” she said, turning and setting it up on a spit that they obediently sat by to turn slowly. “I’ve been thinking that I cannot just call you “Vessel” or “Knight”.” 

Why not? It was what they were. 

“You need a name.” They shook their head. They did not.

Hornet frowned and turned from where she had taken out her needle on the table.

“I’m not calling you Vessel.” She scoffed. “Would you call me “Wyrm Spider bastard”?” Well, no, of course they wouldn’t. They shook their head again, offended at the thought that they would ever insult the princess like that.

“It is what I am, I am not ashamed. It’s also not a name.” She pointed out, gently sharpening her needle. They pondered this while they turned the spit, and she sighed.

“I found something down in the kingdom for you today.” They tilted their head at this. She reached within her cloak and gently pulled out the object. They stopped turning the spit for a moment and took it in their hand, trying to understand what she had just given to them. 

A small effigy of the King lovingly carved out of a softer stone and painted white glinted in the firelight, partially concealed by the void of their claws. It was crude compared to the regal being they knew. The face was the same though, and they shakily traced it with their thumb. They knew their King had been worshipped, but it was still strange to hold an idol of the being they had known so well. The bug who had carved this had never seen how the King had looked when he had been served his favorite meal or the first time that negotiations with Deepnest had gone south. They had never seen him fall asleep at his desk in the workshop, his hand mistakenly put in a jar of ink he had been using to take notes. Nobody alive possibly remembered the very mortal behavior of their god.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it.” She assured. “Sometimes things of the past should stay buried.” They stared at her gift, and in a hesitant motion, they put it on the window sill. They could look at it there, and remember.

Hornet pulled her meal off the fire, and casually tore off large chunks. She told them about the world below, how it had changed. The tiktik she was eating had to be grabbed from down in Greenpath because the ones in the crossroads were still too infected to be eaten without harm. Apparently the Mantis tribe had figured out they were the largest force left unharmed and had tried to expand their territory into the Fog Canyon. She snarled as she relayed how she had had to defeat an entire company of mantis scouts before this initial attempt had been foiled. 

“The canyon is home to too many secrets to become yet another battleground.” She had said, staring intensely into the fire. “The whole of Hallownest contains too much history to become yet another place for the tribe.” The Knight looked at her as she had said these things, and was reminded again of their father. Like it or not, Hornet carried on his legacy, and likely his same territorial feelings. Her Wyrm heritage was perhaps not quite so easily abandoned. She turned and checked on their wounds again, and removed some of the bandages around the mostly healed ones in their chest. 

“We have to visit the Troupe again tomorrow.” She said as she helped them to their spot by the window where they liked to sleep. They stared at her, the message in their eyes clear. “I’m not fond of him either, but I’m fairly sure he didn’t mean to hurt you. The other one understands medicine more than I do, and they’ll know if you’re healed enough to travel below.” This was good news. They had been aching to see what had become of Hallownest in the duration of their confinement but trusted Hornet’s judgment and orders much more than their own horrendous curiosity. They had been… struggling with emotions lately. The Radiance had broken their will, and now they weren’t even able to control themselves. The moping during the days, the frustration with Quirrel, the wanting. It was all disgusting to them, their flaws thrown in their face with every single attempt to heal and to become what they once had. It scared them, and with every strong feeling they tried even harder to be empty. They refused to further tarnish their King’s memory with their own behavior.

“Sleep well tonight, and tomorrow I will stay and go with you to the tents. If you are healed enough, we will journey to the mask maker.” That was a logical next step they supposed, but they wondered what had become of the plans of trying to scavenge for information in the archives. She kicks dirt on the fire, both of them having learned the light gives the vessel nightmares of their time in the egg. It had been a few sleepless nights falling asleep by the fire before the two of them had realized that the light was stopping the knight from sleeping peacefully. The hut fell swiftly into that same stillness that filled it all day, and it leaves something in the Knight aching. They ignore it staunchly, the melancholy stinging in their chest like another stab wound.

“Quirrel asked after your health today.” She murmured quietly in the dark. Ah, yes. The scholar. They felt an unwilling flush of embarrassment at their childish behavior before. They nudged Hornet’s back as it was turned to them, and she shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m not going to apologize for you. I can’t say I don’t understand why you kicked him out though.” She said into the dark, her voice tinged with mirth. 

“It’s a bit difficult to expect courtly graces when in pain, although the little ghost made it seem easy.” This sparked their curiosity, and they nudged her again to which she lightly slapped the offending limb and rolled over.

“So, you want to know more about the little beast?” She mused fondly, but they could hear the unspoken grief. They didn’t mean to bring up bad memories and tried to communicate that with a gesture.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. They were relentless, and a lot like you when we were young.” She gestured to the knight, and they wondered at that. They couldn’t remember their youth much beyond the intense training and a younger hornet who never understood why they couldn’t play with her. “They were strange, though. Not strange as a creature made of Void, but of something else. I tried to destroy them, twice. I knew what they were capable of.” The Knight understood her reasoning. In a trial phase of their training, they were told to cut down an innocent member of the court without any cause besides that they were ordered to. They had done so, and promptly, carapace cracking mercilessly under the steel of their nail. They had passed the test, but Hornet would not speak to them for days. The Pale King had been so pleased, they had just been content to continue on the path set before them. She was right to fear the vessels as she had known them. 

“Maybe not all they were capable of. I suppose we all are in debt to them now.” She gently laid a hand on the side of their mask, and they could see her eyes had welled up with emotion. Another family member lost to her. They gestured with their arm, and she curled into them like they had as children, hiding in their mother’s garden away from the guards and court. They felt a traitorous sense of peace fill them, and ignored it in favor of nuzzling the top of Hornet’s head. 

“What about “Large Pillow” for a name?” Hornet whispered into their side, her voice breaking a little bit as she wiped a tear or two away. They tilted their head comically and pretended to think about it. Large Pillow, the protector and knight of Hallownest. Didn’t flow as well as the Hollow Knight, to be honest.    
“Yes, it doesn’t quite fit. I’ll keep thinking, and you should too. There’s only so many times I can say “Hey you”.” She yawned and they could feel themselves getting sleepier as well. Tomorrow would be a welcome change, and they found themselves feeling better than they had since leaving the egg. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow!! Thank you for all the kind comments, kudos, and bookmarks! This is my first fic ever, and its been really encouraging to read through your words. Thanks for reading!!! :O

The morning was filled with anticipation as Hornet and the Hollow Knight slowly made their way across the chilly stone of Dirtmouth to the circus tents. Hornet seemed cheerfully determined, and they suspected that she would venture far that day even if they were not able to accompany her. They felt nothing. They would not feel anything. The fever-induced emotion and their actions were a result of their injuries and time in the egg. There would not be further imitations of emotional outbursts and displays of affection, and they would regain their composure. Their King had designated them his Hollow Knight, and that was all they needed to be. 

It didn’t settle as well as it used to, however. They resolutely ignored the familiar old panic rising, and tried to focus on simply following Hornet as fast as they could. She watched them carefully as they resolutely walked through the entrance to the fairgrounds, waiting for them to stumble or fall. The pain in their side flared as they walked, but they continued on all the same. Do not feel.

Brumm sat outside the tent, playing something melancholy while Grimm leaned against a torch pole with his eyes closed and tapped his foot quietly. A much larger bug was sat a few feet away folding costumes, her claws reminiscent of a mantis but her body large and grublike. She saw the two approaching and yelled a greeting across the campground.

“Brumm! Master Grimm! Your guests are here!” She announced, and in a shocking display of insubordination, threw a bundled up shirt at the higher being. It bounced off his cloak harmlessly, and he lazily opened one eye.

“Really Divine? I wouldn’t have guessed.” He rasped dryly and stretched. “Well met my friends! How are my favorite wyrmlings?” 

“Better than before,” Hornet said shortly, refusing to rise to his obvious baiting. The Knight watched him carefully as they approached. There was no way he hadn’t known they were there. He probably knew the second they left the hut that they were on their way. 

“Hrmm… Sit here.” Brumm said, speaking up for the first time since they had met. He got up from his seat and gestured to the Knight, who promptly went to do as commanded. They were about to sit, when Grimm swept in to try and help them. 

“Please, let me-” He started, but they wrenched their arm out of his grasp. They would sit down of their own accord, and they would not need any help from another higher being seeking to meddle with what was left of their King’s domain. 

“Ah, yes. My apologies, I should have asked if you required assistance.” Grimm said sheepishly, and they nodded robotically in return. Divine snickered from behind them, and to the Knight’s surprise, this disrespect was once again met with fond patience. What a strange circus.

Brumm carefully undid the bandages surrounding their stump and chest and proceeded with the checkup. The aches that had been so fresh for so long had started to fade, but it was clear that perhaps they would never be at full strength again. 

“Mrmm… Yes, I think some exercise would be in order now.” Brumm grunted, so quiet that they barely heard. Hornet perked up again at this news, and but they stubbornly refused to let any of the excitement spread to them. It did not matter whether they stayed another day in the hut or if they went to rediscover the kingdom.   
“Wonderful! Now, I was hoping that I could ask just a simple favor of you since you were already on your way…” Grimm wheedled, leaning over to Hornet and clasping his hands together. She sighed deeply, but it was clear that the Knight’s recovery and the Troupe’s help had cheered her.

“Yes, what is it?” She said, looking up sternly at the Troupe Master. 

“Well, the little ghost carried something very near and dear to me and if it’s not too much trouble I would like it back.” Hornet looked unimpressed at this news.

“Why did you give it to them if you wanted it back?” She said flatly, while the Knight stood up and stretched.

“Ah! Well, you see its not exactly a thing, so to speak.” He said, clearly embarrassed (or at least pretending to be) by what he was about to say next. “They were sort of a caretaker for my child.” Hornet groaned at this revelation, and even the Knight turned and looked at the higher being, who stared back at them expectantly.

“You gave your actual living spawn to what was basically ALSO another grub?” Hornet practically yelled at an unfazed Grimm. Divine cackled loudly from behind, and Brumm seemed to want to shrink into his ruff until he disappeared. 

“Yes, a child of god and void who quite frankly seemed rather formidable for being just a “grub”.” He said simply, folding his arms stiffly. Was that a hint of a temper he was hiding? The Knight moved behind the irate Hornet and straightened to their full height to face him. 

“Please. It will be a simple task. They are probably hiding near wherever the little one fell.” He pleaded, stepping back. Good. 

Hornet shook her head a little, and looked up at the Knight as if for moral support. Their gaze stayed trained on Grimm. 

“Alright, we’ll find the child.” She sighed. “If it’s scared and in hiding, how are we going to get it to come with us?” Grimm brightened, and fished out a handful of jerky and dumped it into Hornet’s claws. She stared at it, and then back at the higher being who had popped a piece into his own maw and was now offering some to Brumm, who somehow shrunk even further into his ruff. Grimm shrugged and then tossed some to Divine who caught it.

“Nothing motivates a little beast like its next meal!” She yelled from behind and tore off a chunk with a vicious motion. 

“Ask a stupid question…” Hornet muttered, so quiet only the Knight heard. “Fine, I suppose it will be hungry after being on its own for so long.” She said, louder this time. “How do you know the child still lives?” 

“I would have felt it’s flame be snuffed out,” Grimm said solemnly, placing a hand to his chest. “It’s life is the same as my own.” Hornet nodded and shoved the jerky into a pocket, content with the explanation. 

“We’ll be taking our leave then. Thank you for all of your help.” She said graciously and quickly started walking. Grimm offered more jerky to the Hollow Knight with a large grin, but they turned away swiftly and followed Hornet. If they only had the strength they had possessed in their youth, they would have shown the higher being what they thought of his presence here in the King’s lands.

Grimm watched the two strange siblings walk back through the entrance, and idly tore more of the jerky to shreds between his claws.

“I don’t think the big one likes you!” Divine laughed, putting the pile of costumes neatly into the chest, having finished folding and sorting them. “It’s like you held up a pile of Gruzfly dung to them! Like Father, Like Child!”

“Like Father, Like Child.” He hummed. What an interesting Grimmchild this one would turn out to be. Raised and Fed by not one, but three different gods and demigods. He wondered what the Nightmare Heart would think of this development. Brumm gently tugged his cloak, which startled him out of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry my musician, of course, I’ll help clean up.” He apologized, and joined the quiet bug in cleaning up the medicinal supplies. Interesting indeed. 

  
  


The Knight sat on the steps leading up to their would-be tomb and waited for Hornet. They felt somewhat silly as they waved a piece of jerky in their one claw, attempting to tempt the child out of whatever hole in the face of the cavern it had squirreled away in. Hornet had told them that since they were going back anyway, she would run into the egg and retrieve the little ghost’s remains. They had tried to protest, tried to remind her of her terrible mortality, but she had shushed their silent protests. A quiet sense of shame that they had tried again to suppress had welled up within them at the knowledge that she hadn’t had to try very hard. They did not want to return to the place that had ruined them. They were not only a flawed vessel, but they were also a coward as well. 

Even now, they sat with their back turned and tried very hard not to think about what lay behind them. The Knight halfheartedly continued flopping the jerky, trying to concentrate on the small task that had been given to them instead of the familiar chill from the Void within the egg. What would a child of a higher being like Grimm even look like? The idea of a vessel like them and their siblings in the shape of Grimm was a laughable idea, and despite their determination not to feel it cheered them up a little. 

The anxiety caused by the tomb’s closeness did not cease, and they strained to hear Hornet’s footsteps despite knowing the Void would swallow all sound. The lack of sound and the chill was as close to them as their own shell. The chains and what had remained of the armor gifted to them by the king was the only thing that had been physical, that was tactile. That, and the  _ pain _ . They remembered clutching the cold chains as the Radiance tried to burn her way out through them, the cold soothing and chafing at the same time. The will of their father made real and metal. They would not fail him, they could not.

But they did. Their chest heaved in some sort of approximation of breath and they had slumped over on the steps. The cavern ceiling lay above them and they scrabbled to feel the stone beneath their claw. This was real, they were outside of the egg, the Old Light had been defeated. This was real. 

Their vision refocused, and they held up their claw only to be surprised to find a lack of jerky. Confused, they were about to sit up when they finally felt a strange heaviness on their chest. They lifted their head to see a small warm lump of something sitting there, twitching as it consumed the jerky it must have snatched from them while they were dazed. It startled at the movement, and two bright ruby red eyes stared back into the void of the Knight’s. It then made a loud noise and returned to its meal. Well, that was… easier than expected. This must be the child, as the resemblance was striking.

It didn’t seem to be injured at all. Was that a sad noise? Was it sad? The queen had told them once that real children needed to be comforted the first time that an infant Hornet had cried. They couldn’t remember if the Queen had tried to comfort them once, or if that had been after the Pale King had raged at her and she had become distant. What had become of the being who had called herself their mother?

They gently raised their claw and the child sniffed it. It returned to tearing apart the jerky with its sharp teeth, and the Knight hesitantly stroked its back. No voice to cry suffering, and apparently no voice to sing a lullaby to a scared child. Divine had been right to call it a little beast it seemed. It finished tearing through the jerky and then shoved its face unexpectedly into the Knight’s, mewling for more. The Knight reasoned that it must be starving as the egg seemed to drive away most small insects that this child could have hunted. 

They cupped the small beast in their palm and sat up carefully. It curled against their abdomen like the Void of their being had no effect on it. It probably burned too hot to be bothered much by the residual chill left on the vessel’s carapace. Both of them startled as Hornet suddenly slid to a stop beside them, out of breath and carrying an armful of fabric. 

Despite the egg’s effects taking their toll on her, she gently laid the contents of her arms onto the ground. The little ghost’s mask made a quiet sound as the two pieces hit the stone, and she laid their cloak and nail around it. The small beast cried out again and went to the mask, batting it with their wings and seemingly trying to wake what had been their caretaker. The Knight gently grabbed them and cradled them against their side once more as the child wriggled and called out to the mask. 

“We miss them too, child of Grimm,” Hornet said, putting her hands on her knees and gasping for breath. They all stayed like that for a few minutes. The Grimmchild fell asleep against the Knight, comforted by the similarity to the little Ghost. The Knight couldn’t stop staring at the broken mask. They wondered if Hornet knew how the Radiance had truly been defeated. The way the little one had dodged and struck against the ancient goddess, trapped by the Hollow Knight’s mind. They remembered tearing her open with their own claws, the way the void of their siblings around them had felt. They knew that wherever the little Ghost was now, they could rest easy. They had conquered the ancient foe. The Knight suspected that perhaps that hadn’t been the little one’s only goal.

Hornet stood up and gathered Ghost’s remains and slung them over her shoulder carefully.

“I don’t know about you two, but I could really use some time in a spring to recover.” She groaned, rubbing her side. The Void tried to destroy that what was constantly, and it was obvious that her brief time in the egg had taken quite a bit out of the usually spry spider. 

The Knight cautiously stood up as well, trying to avoid waking up the Grimmchild. They weren’t successful, and the child screeched at the movement and took to flying around their head. They only barely resisted the urge to swat at it. 

Hornet smiled ruefully at them and started leading the way towards the nearest spring. They followed, walking quicker than usual. Maybe the pest would fall behind and they would tell Grimm that his child was just too weak and they hoped he had better luck next time. The child ignored the increase in speed and instead opted to perch on their head and gnaw hungrily on one of their horns. They resolutely ignored this in favor of avoiding puddles of rancid infection. All of the caverns stunk as the pustules and veins that had once pulsed a sickly orange had decomposed into a brownish amber sludge full of strange refuse. After about ten minutes of walking, Hornet helped pull them up into a medium-sized room filled with steam that seemed to cleanse the smell from the air. 

The spring was simple and pure, seemingly having resisted the infection due to the soul-infused water constantly bubbling up from below. Hornet draped her cloak over a nearby rock and slunk into the water, sighing in relief. However, the Grimmchild ruined any attempt she might have made at relaxation by diving into the pool as fast as possible and splashing both Hornet and the Knight at once. 

“Alright, you little mongrel!” Hornet cried, and caught the child by its tail before it could paddle out of her grasp. “I’ll have no roughhousing in the spring. It’s not polite if everyone doesn’t want to play.” She peered at the Grimmchild and the Hollow Knight was instantly reminded of a younger Hornet intimidating the weaver children who had trespassed into her latest game. It made a pitiful peep as it stared into its captor’s stern face, and was rewarded with being released back into the warm water. 

“Come on “Savior of Hallownest”, the spring will help you too.” She yawned, gesturing for the Knight to join them in the spring. They did as asked, but shot her a look. 

“You can’t object to that name, it is technically already yours.” She argued lazily, flicking pebbles into the water that the overexcited Grimmchild chased. 

They shook their head and sunk into the spring. The warmth was gentle, and it stung for a moment against their wounds until the soul soaked in. They tried to Focus again, only to meet the same results as the magic fizzled out before being able to truly take effect. They shrugged again and Hornet copied the motion. 

“I have a feeling that Quirrel is right, and the answer to why you can’t heal is still hidden in the archives.” She said, leaning back. “Hmmm… Should I address you as Prince? I guess you could use Princess too if you wanted, but I’m not inclined to share my title with someone who was as bad at hide and seek as you.”

That wasn’t fair. No one had ever taught them the rules of the game, and besides, they weren’t allowed to play anyway. It had just been Hornet running around the palace and occasionally shrieking “Found you!” to startle both the Knight and whatever poor noble had been standing nearby. The Knight shook their head again, and Hornet ignored them. The Grimmchild swam up to them, its wings flapping awkwardly in the water, and peeped. It seemed to have taken Hornet’s scolding to heart and was trying to be quieter. 

“You’re just shooting down all of my ideas and not coming up with any of your own.” She complained, and lazily pointed a finger at them. They shrugged halfheartedly and pointed to their mask.

“I’m not calling you “Broken”.” She said sternly and splashed the Knight in mock punishment. The Grimmchild was delighted by this development, and also took to splashing the Knight which got a chuckle out of the normally serious Hornet. 

“We’ll return the child after we’re done with our journey.” She said, watching bemusedly as the Knight struggled to keep the Grimmchild from getting water into their eye sockets. “It’s a hassle getting us both up and down that chain, and I have a feeling that as soon as we return he’ll have another “little favor” to ask.” She growled. 

They nodded, glad that she shared their same opinion on the strange higher being. The Grimmchild paid no mind to the conversation subject and managed to land yet another direct hit into their left eye socket. They wryly wondered if maybe it hadn’t been worth the healing if it meant that they had to babysit such an active grub. 


	5. Chapter 5

The little Ghost stood on the hallowed ground of Godhome, bleeding void softly. Their opponent circled around the other side of the arena, The Traitor Lord’s eyes burned amber, and Ghost met his gaze evenly. They had not known fear before this, and he would not teach them the meaning of it. Especially since he was already dead by their nail. 

They had been here for some length of time now, proving their worth to the Godseeker. But it wasn’t necessary because they wanted the worship of the strange bug and her people. Some part of the Radiance lived on, and they could feel it. Somewhere, somehow, she burned still and would still be a threat to their home until she had been snuffed out for good. They knew the Godseekers were searching for her too. They would play their game until the Godseekers had lured the Old Light to them with the promise of remembrance, and then they would destroy her as many times as it took. 

The Traitor Lord lurched forward and snarled and Ghost dove towards him. A claw swiped through the air that they had occupied just a second before. They drove a long gash through his abdomen with their nail, feeling a grim satisfaction as the infection that had replaced his insides splashed upon them and the ground. The Lord screamed in pain and jumped high, and the knight cooly spun and dashed away. He landed with a crash, all force and none of the elegance possessed by his sisters. The shockwaves spread outwards across the arena, flattening the nearby plant life in a tremendous show of power. A hush fell over the arena at the display and the Traitor Lord sniffed and swung his horned head around, expecting to see his attacker stumbling out of the destruction.

It was too late when he realized that he forgot to look up. Ghost’s nail pierced the Traitor Lord’s head with precision. He writhed underneath and desperately tried to throw them off, inadvertently driving the nail deeper into his skull. Ghost clung with grim determination and with a scream of fear and anger, the Traitor Lord collapsed. Ghost stood hesitantly on his body, nail at the ready in case he tried to rise again. Thankfully, the light leaked from the mantis’s eyes as he glared at his killer. There was no outreach for forgiveness or acceptance like with some who awoke from the Radiance’s curse when it came to the large mantis. Nor would Ghost have granted it to him. They had no respect for those who had chosen this fate. 

The audience chatter finally gained their attention and they turned to the throne where the Godseeker sat and raised their nail in a challenge. Her eyes narrowed, and she waved her right claw. The arena shifted and they now stood in the halls of their infancy. They turned to face the old knight of the sewers, now young and heartened by the companionship of his friends and loyalty to what must have seemed to him an infallible king. They supposed they would not take pleasure in this battle, as the old beetle had been kind to them. But this would not stop their conquest, and they circled the new opponent. 

It would not be long now, they could feel it. Each enemy a stepping stone towards their one purpose. They swung their nail, but something in the corner of their vision distracted them and they missed. They dodged a large dung boulder and turned, only to see nothing. They went to swing again, and this time they saw it standing behind a pillar. There, in the midst of dream and the marble of the palace stood a strange yet familiar figure. Their older sibling, the pure vessel, as they had known them before Ghost had been banished to the abyss. They dashed towards them, curious and half hoping that maybe they could see them once more. The Pure Vessel stood still and watched them approach impassionately. Ghost reached out towards them expectantly as they ran, their eyes never leaving the Pure Vessel’s. The other vessel seemed just as shocked to see Ghost here, and took a step back. They stopped, however, and in a slow movement they hesitantly held out their hand. Ghost moved faster, emboldened by this unbelievable act of thought from their sibling. Their sibling was fading from view quickly, and they tried to double their speed. They had almost reached them when the vessel shattered into dream essence and they fell to the unforgiving ground with a thud. 

Ghost heard the White defender cry from behind, but before they could turn around they were crushed with a deadly blow. Their mask shattered, and through the pain they steeled themself. They felt foolish for being distracted, but also they couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something different. That was not a memory of a battle or their own past, their sibling had never reached out to them like that in all of their limited knowledge of that time before. That had been something new. Some part of their older sibling was here, was alive.

They woke up on the sturdy gilded bench of Godhome and resolutely shook off the shock of another death. Whatever the phantasm was, it had ruined yet another attempt at finding the Radiance. They would try again, and this time there would be no distraction. 

  
  


The Hollow Knight awoke with a start, not having realized they dozed off. They were still in the spring, and Hornet stood a few yards away angrily trying to dry off a wriggling Grimmchild. They rubbed the hollows of their eyes sleepily and rose from the spring. Grimmchild spat sparks into Hornet’s face as she rubbed her cloak on its wings, and she hissed in return. In a moment of well-timed scrambling, The child escaped Hornet’s grasp and quickly started to run away. Before they could get very far, they were unexpectedly pinned to the ground with the Knight’s large claws. The child squealed in surprise, not having even seen the large void being’s approach. The Knight unceremoniously held the child back up to Hornet, who quickly finished drying the would-be escapee. 

“I ought to skin you and use you for a bag,” Hornet growled indignantly as she wiped soot from her mask and the Knight let the squirming child go. Grimmchild quickly returned to its favorite hobby, which was idly chewing on the Hollow Knight’s left horn. She packed up Ghost’s belongings and shell in the small bag of supplies she carried and shouldered it, rejuvenated from the effects of the spring. The Knight watched her carefully as she walked ahead, and could tell that regardless of the rest they had taken she would need to stop early and rest more tonight. They couldn’t understand why she thought it was necessary to retrieve the remains of the little one at such cost to herself.

“We will head to Deepnest by way of Greenpath.” Hornet explained as they headed forwards and deeper into Hallownest. “I don’t think the Mantis Tribe would be very happy to see me after my actions near the canyon.” No, they didn’t think they would. They would like to see the tribe try to lay a claw on the princess now that they had been healed enough to travel. They communicated this by gesturing to the great nail still strapped to their back, and she chuckled a little and shook her head.

“I’ve no wish to strain relations between us more. If you wish to test your nail, perhaps we can find someplace wide enough in Greenpath.” They nodded an affirmative, anxious to see if they had healed enough to protect themselves. If Hornet insisted on rehabilitating a broken vessel, then they at least would not be a burden. 

The travel was still hard on the large vessel, the tunnels they traveled having been made for smaller beings. Their horns scraped the tunnel ceilings often and forced them to walk crouched which caused their still healing abdomen to spasm. They staunchly continued, refusing to show more weakness. They couldn’t help but envy the ease by which Hornet traveled, and was embarrassed by how often she had to stop and wait for the vessel to catch up. 

It was about an hour before the cold stone gave away to the verdant paths and foliage of Greenpath, and despite their best efforts, the Knight was struggling. Hornet slowed, and instead of admonishing them for their hindering of the journey, she ducked under their side and started to support them.

“You’re a lot lighter than you look.” She grunted, and they pushed through the confusion to keep walking. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. We need to figure out how to get you more void at some point.” They looked down at the pitted and scarred over mess of their abdomen, and the void soaked bandages. The carapace was cracked and torn painfully, but there was no more infection scalding its surface. They still had trouble breathing and exercising now, and soon Hornet had to force them to sit down.

They trembled with the pain it took to sit back down, and the exertion had started to make them breathe heavily. Hornet was concerned and offered them water from a flask she carried. They gently took it and drank desperately, unconcerned in the moment about how it would appear to Hornet. She sat down as well upon the mossy path and the Grimmchild left the Hollow Knight to go beg for scratches behind its jaw. She obliged and just sat with the Knight. They finished drinking and went to hand it back to her but she refused it.

“You’ll need it again sooner than I will.” She said simply and stood up. They tried to struggle to their feet as well, but she stopped them with a hand.

“Please Hollow, I need to examine your mask. I think another part fell away in the spring.” She asked, dropping the last part of their title fondly. “And if you move, I’ll eat you.” She smiled, playfully baring her fangs. They supposed that she could rename them anything and they would still love her for it. It ached how familiar it all was, and all they remembered were the days when she came to visit being what they looked forward to. The King took the time to mind Hornet himself those days, and the Pale Lady accompanied him. They were left alone, free to sit in the gardens of the palace. As soon as she left, it had been a return to routine and training. 

She hummed as she gently unbound the bandages around their mask. Their head still hurt from where she had pierced both mask and skull, but it had been doing better. Her fingers were deft, and they recognized the song as an old Deepnest hunting tune. She rebandaged it again with her silk, tighter this time to avoid any more pieces falling away. It obscured that eye this time, but it eased the pain in some ways. 

Hornet leaned back to survey her handiwork, and hesitantly they gently squeezed the hand had her side in a rare show of thanks. She looked down, surprised, and responded by gently bumping her mask to theirs. 

“Let’s get going. I don't think we should spar tonight, we both need rest.” She said, shaking herself back into her usual determined composure. They stood up, and she helped them by supporting their side. Grimmchild, who had been hunting in a nearby bush, flew up and squawked loudly. The Hollow Knight flinched at the noise but lowered their head slightly to allow the child easier access to its perch. It obliged, snuggling it's warm body back up to its horns, and Hornet smiled again.

“I don’t remember you ever being that nice to me.” She admonished jokingly, slicing a way through the tangled growth that crossed the path in front of them. She had been a riot of color and noise within the palace growing up, and eventually, the King had given up trying to discipline or reason with her and instead told his Hollow Knight to mind her while he got some rest. She had been so small, and so fast, and so full of questions. Unfortunately, they couldn’t answer any of those questions, and so she had invented games and stories and told them to her silent audience. 

She didn’t smile as often as she had back then anymore, and that knowledge hurt. Some part of them always wished that they could have been expressive back, that they could answer her questions and play her games. This older Hornet was strong and cold like her father, a product of the Hallownest that had raised her. A survivor and a ruler all in one. 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

They rested that evening in a small clearing slightly out of the way. Hornet had rested her pack on a small bench someone had left there long ago, and left to hunt with the strict instructions that they were to rest. The Knight saw no problem with this command and promptly collapsed into a sitting position beside the bench. It was frankly too small for a bug of their size, but if they angled their back just right it supported their long horns. She had not been gone for very long when the Grimmchild had decided that attempting to set the damp grass on fire wasn’t stimulating enough, and with a sharp turn sped towards the shrubbery. The Knight dove for them as fast as they could, but unfortunately the strange vessel dodged their outstretched claw easily this time. Well, that was fine. If the grimmchild couldn’t handle themselves in Greenpath after surviving a week by the black egg, it wasn’t strong enough to be a suitable vessel anyway. They wondered if Grimm had ever disciplined it at all, or even trained it in basic combat spells besides its defensive fire-spitting. It was puzzling to think that a god would make a vessel, and then leave it to become whatever it might without a guiding hand. 

They wiped the mud gained from their quick tumble off on their simple cloak and settled back down. Nothing to do now but wait and take in their surroundings. Soft cold light filtered down from somewhere up above the canopy, and the forest around them burst with colorful greens and blues. After so long staring at the deep darkness in the egg and the venomous orange of the infection, the sight seemed to be the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen. They sighed as deeply as they could with their chest wounds, enjoying the calm atmosphere and pervasive scent of mulch and trees.   
Their chest spasmed from the movement and they flinched. They took a painfully deep breath and Focused, willing their body to mend itself. No such luck beyond another thin layer of carapace reforming over their pitted and scarred body. It would probably crack and be raw again if they pushed themselves as hard as they did while getting to Greenpath. Hornet would most likely scold them harshly about it when she returned. Despite the ineffectiveness of their first healing, they tried again. Maybe the problem was that they just weren’t Focused enough? Maybe it was their mind. Maybe the Radiance had broken something more internal, something unfixable. 

Unwilling to accept that answer, they Focused fiercely and put as much willpower and effort into it as possible. The result was the same and it worried them. They took in a sharp deep breath but coughed instead.   
Something in their throat had cracked and shifted and now it was blocking their air. For a second, it was silence as they panicked and realized that they could no longer breathe. They fell to their knees, pawing at their throat and struggling for air. The offending object shifted enough to let in some air, and they coughed harshly. It was a thick wet sound, and they could feel its sharp edges drawing void from the edges of their insides. 

In a fit of desperation, they slammed their own fist into their abdomen. The force was enough to expel the object and they took in ragged and panicked breaths while a slow stream of thick void poured from their mouth. They stayed where they were for a few seconds, crouched on hand and knees. Were they shaking? Obviously, that wouldn’t have been enough to kill them, but the scare was enough that they quietly wished Hornet was back already in a moment of traitorous feeling.

  
They spat out more void as they sat back onto their knees. It didn’t taste like anything but poured like a liquid all the same. Disgusting and unnerving at the same time.   
The knight leaned their head back to quell the flow, and felt around in the grass until their hand connected with the offending object. They held it up to the light and cleared the void from its surface. It was some sort of translucent piece of shell. Like a scale perhaps? It shimmered iridescently despite being soaked in the dense void that filled their core. It was largely colorless and had jagged edges that still dripped. They shuddered and tossed it aside into the underbrush. Most likely some strange leftover from the meals Hornet had been insisting they eat had gotten caught within their throat teeth.

It was strange to eat actual physical matter again. The last time that they had, it had been in the years leading up to their final molt. It had been the finest food that could be procured until they had reached their adult height and age. The King had deemed it an unessecary expense after that as it was no longer needed to ensure their survival or continued growth. They had remembered standing at his side at the banquets, watching the food and the courses pass under them while the nobles surrounding them had laughed and joked about feeding them scraps like a pet mosscreep. They didn’t miss that.

At the realization they were reminiscing again, they coughed again violently to clear both their throat and their head. The King was right to deny them food, and Hornet was just coddling them in her fear of losing a powerful weapon from the old kingdom. If they could even get back to being useful at all. They stood up carefully and stretched, feeling the everpresent ache tighten in their chest. The nicest part about Greenpath had to be that there were so many places that they could stand at full height. They still stooped a bit from the weight of their horns, but it was a pleasant change from the usually cramped caverns made for smaller bugs. They closed their eyes and listened, trying to ground themselves by listening to the gentle noises of the surrounding creeks and maskflies. Except the maskflies had stopped, leaving the area eerily silent. Something had scared them off. 

  
They sniffed frantically and drew their great nail. It had to have heard their struggle and come to finish off what must have sounded like easy prey. They scanned the treeline and took a step forward. The forest ahead was still, and they turned just in time to see what seemed like a wall of foliage slam into them. The impact stunned them and they reflexively struck back with their nail. Whatever it was snarled in pain, and the Hollow Knight skidded back through the soft grass. After a moment of imbalance, they regained their solid footing just in time to parry away the beast’s claws. It roared fiercely, the force of the sound shaking the foliage. The Knight frantically dodged and dashed away as the beast continued to advance, its large mane of vines and plants blocking out the light above. They couldn’t remember the Greenpath of their day ever having a predator as large as this one.

The beast rounded on them, its curiously skinny legs leaving long grooves in the dirt. Its six eyes narrowed as it charged again, its claws outstretched. The Knight was ready this time, the movement almost clockwork in its regularity. They were five feet to the left in an instant, the teleportation instinctive. The beast was stuck in its forward momentum and had no way to avoid their nail. It roared again, this time in pain and fury, but the sound was lost on the Knight. They breathed in the fresh soul, felt the way it invigorated and buzzed in their skull. With how many slashes they had landed, they were back to where they had been before their attempt to heal. The effect was intoxicating, and they went on the attack again, trying to land another hit. Just one more opening for the soul to leak out of, for them to consume. The soul from the springs was gentle healing, a gathering of latent soul from the echoes of those before. This was fresh, and intense, and more than anything they had gotten out of a vengefly or a tiktik. 

The beast was warier now, careful. It circled the Knight, who circled in turn. The Knight attacked first, leaping into the air with blade held overhead. The beast dodged, and the great nail buried itself in the earth instead. The beast was about to revenge itself on the Knight’s turned back when long pale blades burst from the soil around it and buried themselves in its underbelly, the combat magic so painfully familiar to the Knight. It had been so long, but the feeling was the same. However, they had miscalculated and they were slammed into a nearby monolith of stone with a sick crunching sound. Agony exploded through them as they felt the already frail carapace of their abdomen give under the pressure of the Beast’s charge. They were pinned and felt Hornet’s careful bandaging snap and shred under its claws. Damn it all. 

  
“I must confess… I did not expect such a weakling to have so strong of a bite.” Their attacker chuckled, clear ichor dripping down its hide from the slashes. It’s grip tightened around the Knight, forcing them to gasp. “No words? No cries for help? I can respect that dignity. Well met, my prey.” It’s jaws opened, more rows of teeth like the ones that lined its hooded face. The Knight stared into its throat, stunned and dazed and desperately trying to focus long enough to counterattack. 

  
A needle buried itself in the center of the beast’s face, and then Hornet was there. With a rallying cry, she slammed her feet into its blunt nose, and it snarled but wisely did not let go of the Knight.

  
“I respect your need to eat Hunter but you would do well to stay away from what is mine.” She hissed, her cloak flaring like a much smaller red mane of her own.

  
“What claim do you have to another bug’s meal?” The Hunter replied in turn, gnashing its second pair of teeth and swatting at the smaller bug. She responded by driving her nail in again to its face and being rewarded with another cry of pain.

  
“Do familial bonds mean nothing to you, you shameful thief?” She cried indignantly, stomping on the nail to make the Hunter recoil.

  
“Now you go too far!” The Hunter roared and sent both the Knight and Hornet flying with a large swat of his claws. “I am no thief and I will not have my honor debated as such!” His eight eyes narrowing in anger. Hornet landed nimbly, but the Knight was flung to the ground.

  
“Leave me and my kin alone, and hunt the simple and mindless,” Hornet commanded, her voice steady and cold. “I can promise as the protector-no, as the Ruler of Hallownest, that should you pursue this hunt that it will be your last.” The declaration left the glade silent as the two injured parties stood at a stalemate.

  
“So you’ve usurped the Wyrm?” The beast grunted, anger slowly being displaced by curiosity.

  
“I’ve succeeded him,” Hornet said, her voice devoid of emotion. The Knight felt a faint sadness but agreed with her all the same. She was the only living relative left after all, and they knew that the King had never actually set aside an heir as he had never expected to have to step down from his throne on top of his eternal kingdom. He had told them once or twice while working in his lab that he had considered designating Hornet as the crown princess, a pride coloring his voice that they had only ever rarely heard. The kind they ached to have directed at them. 

  
“I’ve bowed to no king since I was hatched, what makes you think I will respect your claim?” He grumbled teasingly, settling on his haunches and idly patting a long nail wound on his left forearm.

  
“Nothing except my nail,” Hornet said resolutely, leveling her blade and standing between the Hunter and the Knight. “Please, I’ve no wish to slay you over a misunderstanding.” 

  
“And I have no wish to become a kingslayer instead of a simple Hunter.” The Hunter laughed, clearly amused by the situation as a whole. “Very well, _my Lord_. I will find a meal elsewhere. Next time we battle, expect one of us to die a noble death.” He shook his mane and bounded back off into Greenpath’s wilds without another word. 

  
Hornet stood there, stiff and anxious before she quickly dropped to her knees beside the Hollow Knight. She cursed under her breath as the extent of the damage became clear. The thick scabs over the place where the infection was had cracked open and was bleeding thick void slowly into the grass. There was fracturing in the Knight’s shell all over their abdomen, and their mask had gained a few new cracks near the initial one as well. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

  
“Hollow Knight, heal yourself.” She commanded, the emotion leaking into her voice betraying her concern. They snapped to from their daze at the familiar command and immediately began to obey. She quietly bound the healing wounds with silk, and they observed that the new wounds healed with their Focusing. They gestured hesitantly at the disappearing cracks and Hornet squinted.  
“It might be that the infection caused wounds are the only ones not able to be healed.” She said quietly, gently rebinding their mask. “I imagine god inflicted damage is quite different from what the Hunter can do. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” They looked away, ashamed that she had to rescue them. They had expected her to be mad, to be furious that all her careful work had been undone. It was… deeply uncomfortable to see the worry and care in her eyes. They should have been stronger. 

  
She stared at them for a second, some strange emotion dancing in her eyes, and then she left them to rest where they lay.

  
Hornet finished setting up camp as night fell in Greenpath. The Grimmchild had returned eventually with a full belly, and immediately tried to dive upon its new favorite playmate. Hornet deftly caught it midair and shushed it viciously. The Knight had fallen asleep an hour ago, clutching their aching stump with their hand. The grimmchild imitated her shushing noise back, obviously thinking it was a new game. She idly pet its infant soft horns while it excitedly shushed her, and stared into the lumaflies still captive in the lamp she had scavenged from an old lamp post. She knew the Knight blamed themself for not being able to defend themself. And she had openly claimed the throne of Hallownest. The Hunter was no gossip, but word got around. She had claimed her father’s knight and his crown, despite bearing no king’s brand.

Hornet was viciously angry at her father at that moment, for leaving them all with nothing but ruins and wounds. He took her mother, her home, and left her with nothing but a crumbling and dead kingdom. If she ever found out he was still alive, she would be strongly tempted to kill him herself. The Knight shifted in their sleep, and she looked their way. They would have to go through the Queen’s Gardens tomorrow, and Hornet dreaded what memories that might stir up in her fragile older sibling. They might be healing from the physical wounds, but they stood like they were back in the palace still. She had no idea how much of the training her father had instilled in them had stayed, but by their reaction to her commands, she had a strong inkling that it ran deep.   
She sighed, and the Grimmchild happily curled up on her lap. They both had a long way to go still. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. I've been very sick this whole summer, and then school started again. Please don't expect regular updates, this is mainly just a passion project.

The Hollow Knight’s eyes flicked open to the gentle light and deep hues of the morning forest and it felt like waking up for the first time all over again. It was overwhelming to see the colors and richness after the hut in Dirtmouth and what seemed like an eon in the egg. They thought that if they somehow gained the ability to die at that moment then they would taste mortality full of content. They could hear Hornet breathing deeply a few feet away and the Grimmchild was curled up in the crook of their neck. It was vaguely uncomfortable, the heat from their tiny form a reminder of before. A gentle flame, perhaps? The Troupe Leader had said something along those lines. They remembered how serious he had sounded about his and the child’s lives being the same, and not for the first time they wondered exactly what that meant for his vessel. One little red eye opened, and it cooed and curled up tighter. Still a child yet. 

Hesitantly, they gently petted its head. This vessel had no such limitations as they had. Perhaps no grand purpose? That was a strange concept. They looked at the small lump of crimson scales and dull black, and quietly hoped that no godly destiny awaited it. It was no noble thing. 

Hornet shifted and stretched, the quiet noise almost indistinguishable amidst the sound of the breeze and running water. They would be moving again soon, and the Knight slowly sat up while bracing their stomach. Everything ached from the battle the evening before and void wept from their wounds anew. Today would be a grueling one, and they almost wished to ask for a day to rest. Almost. 

The child squawked indignantly at their movement, and immediately swarmed their lap to attempt to sleep longer. The Knight ignored their antics in favor of refastening their cloak and checking their bag to make sure all was still in place. They would have to make sure to collect more water at some point, as most bodies of liquid from here to Deepnest were acid and unfit for consumption. They held up the flask, and Hornet frowned.

“I forgot that we would probably need more water.” She pondered, gently looping a spool of silk around her wrist. “Usually I’m able to travel faster so it’s less of a concern.” They immediately felt tremendously guilty, remembering their greedy consumption of Hornet’s water the day before. They would have been fine without it, but she and the Grimmchild likely still required it. The Knight immediately held it out to her, anxious to have it out of their hands. She took it after a moment and gave them a confused look.

“... You’re fine to hold it. I’m sure we can find someplace between here and Deepnest.” She protested and they shook their head vehemently. They had done enough damage and wouldn’t waste any more resources on themself. It wasn’t prudent and right and had the King been there to see their behavior they would have been sorely punished. The thought made them a little dizzy and they practically shoved it into her hands. She held it a moment, and then gently packed it away into her travel bag and sighed. 

They stood still as she double-checked their bandages, moving only to occasionally shoo a curious Grimmchild away from their wounds and Hornet’s work. After she had changed out the void soaked bandages, and the Knight has stubbornly refused to eat anything, the small group started again. 

The Grimmchild seemed livelier today, the distance from the egg and what must surely be an abundance of slow-moving prey having perked it up considerably. Hornet and the Knight, on the other hand, moved slowly and carefully with Hornet stopping more often for the Knight and the Knight purposefully making them stop because they knew that she too would not rest unless reminded. She was so painfully mortal, a fact they remembered marveling at in their youth. She would trip or fall or cut herself on her nail, and instead of void misting up from quickly closing wounds, she would cry or have to limp for a moment before the King calmly healed it with a sharp reprimand. 

After another long narrow squeeze through leaf-filled corridors, the path opened up into the large airy caverns of the Queen’s Gardens below. They took a deep breath, a wave of nostalgia filling them. The long days spent here seemed so long ago, and quite truly they had believed to never see it again. They stood frozen at the sight. Had it been that long? 

Hornet gently took their hand, and they startled. 

“We need to get down there.” She said simply and pointed to a small pathway that lay beyond the thorns and vines of the plantlife that flourished in the damp air. They nodded numbly and let her lead them onwards. While from above it had seemed the same untouched haven of the White Lady, on the approach they began to see the small corpses in the corners and the wicked orange gleam that had yet to fade from the thorns that choked the natural plant life. They turned back to Hornet, who had been balanced on one of the metal grates that served as a footpath. She jumped effortlessly from grate to grate as they laboriously followed. The Grimmchild couldn’t decide who to follow and eventually settled on racing back and forth between the two as fast as it could without smacking into thorns. They envied her easy movement but supposed that at least they had time to observe the gardens once more this way. 

Hornet leaped once more to the highest grate yet and was about to turn around to help the Hollow Knight up when the metal let out a shrill screech of protest under her feet. The Knight felt frozen as she started to fell, and instinctively reached out to her. Instead, a long mass of void shot out and batted her away to the platform above, away from the thorns below. They stared at their hand, horrified. They hadn’t meant to cast at all! They weren’t thinking, they just wanted to help.

The Knight scrambled up as far as they could, grunting as a thorn or two scraped across their still tender carapace. They were met at the edge by Hornet, who was thankfully unhurt it seemed.

“Stop that! I’m just fine! You’ve gone and scratched yourself all up and I’m just fine!” She scolded breathlessly, but they could tell by the smile in her voice that she didn’t mean it. She grabbed their arm and helped them up to the platform where they both rested a second. 

“I guess that means you still have your reflexes.” Hornet mused wryly as the child dove for its usual spot on the Knight’s lap. They still found themself staring at their hand. First their emotions, and now their casting? Had they lost all of their self-control? 

Hornet stood up, seemingly invigorated by her brush with death, and held out a hand to help them up. They took it gratefully, and the Grimmchild was thrown out of their lap unceremoniously. It squawked in protest and spat a flame at the apathetic Knight, only to be met with its attack being neatly swallowed by a mass of summoned void. It looked up only to meet the two endless pits of the Hollow Knight’s mask. The Knight stared at it coldly until it backed off, cowed by the expressionless being. By Wyrm, what an unruly vessel Grimm seemed to have chosen! Hornet chuckled at the child as it hid within the folds of her cloak. 

“Maybe pick your fights with bugs closer to your own size, hmm?” She teased, her nail catching the light as she drew it. A fight? They guessed this was a large enough area they could both easily move. They responded by taking a hand to measure Hornet’s height exaggeratedly. Not quite their own size.

“Ah! You offend me, Lord Slow Shell!” Hornet cried, jumping back a few feet and putting one hand dramatically to her chest. The Hollow Knight drew their great nail with a menacing hiss and leveled it at their smaller sibling. Against their better judgment, they felt almost eager. They would just be careful to avoid casting or opening up any wounds. 

The two circled for a moment when Hornet broke the tension by leaping away. They methodically dove to the side, as thread whipped the ground where they had stood a second before. 

“So you do remember our little spats!” She called joyfully, and they felt warm at how similar it all was to their youth. However, they did not hesitate to slash towards her, forcing her to continue retreating. Hornet leaped further through the foliage and they followed, a well-known dance of slash and dodge for the two siblings. The Grimmchild crowed happily as it soared past, enjoying both the change of pace and seemingly the fight as well. This intrigued the Knight, and they mentally filed it away. Perhaps it was meant to be a form of protection for the Master and his troupe? 

Hornet once more dodged their slashing, and they tasted the sting of her blade as it struck the side of their mask. She giggled at their surprise, and before they could react she had reached the opposite side of the platform. Hornet was too fast for them to catch with a normal approach. They would have to be creative if they wanted to win this particular sparring match. Without hesitation, they fell to the ground and dropped their great nail. They stayed there as they heard her footsteps approach rapidly. 

“Vessel!” Her slender hands grasped at their cloak, forgetting her needle in her haste to ensure their safety. A spasm of emotion went through them at her prompt emotion, but that didn’t stop them from swiftly drawing their nearby nail once she was within its range. She stopped, stymied by their sudden recovery, and then laughed. The sound rang through the grove like a bell. 

“I bet you’re so proud of yourself right now, aren’t you?” She said, pointing accusingly at the now moss and dirt-covered Knight. They turned their mask away from her accusing digit and brushed themself off. Far be it from them to gloat after winning. But yes, she should have known better than to approach a not dead combatant unarmed. Hornet laughed again, the scene so familiar to the times together in their youth, and she gently punched their shoulder on her way to retrieve her needle. 

The Grimmchild finally settled back on its favorite place as a sort of makeshift hat, cooing and spitting sparks. If they had eyes they would have rolled them, resigned to the fact that apparently, the Pale King’s protege was best suited as a bed to the child. If they were being honest, they didn’t mind the weight that much.    
Hornet turned around after refastening her needle and peered into the distance as they slowly walked up to them. Their joints felt stiff again, and frankly, even without the permanent wounds they had, it was a lot of walking after so long spent in chains. 

“We’ve made good time.” She says encouragingly. “We can rest for a moment.” They shook their head. It was fine, they were doing fine. They didn’t want to slow her down. She narrowed her eyes at their response.

“We’ve made a fair distance. We are now going to  _ rest _ so that we don’t  _ aggravate our wounds _ and make ourselves slower.” Well. They got the feeling this wasn’t so much of a “We” situation as a “You” situation. 

Hornet led the way to a nearby greenhouse, the old glass cracked and shattered by the encroaching gardens it once surrounded and contained. They sat down heavily by a nearby bench and sighed in relief. Truly, they found peace in the presence of the White Lady’s pet project. She had always seemed to them a distant yet kind figure. She was the Wyrm’s mate, and that was enough to exalt her despite her inherent divinity. They’d be lying if they said they weren’t curious about where she had gone as well. 

They tried to communicate this to Hornet, and she shrugged dismissively. 

“She disappeared after your imprisonment. She might as well be dead as far as Hallownest goes.” Hornet said in a clipped tone as she laid on the bench. Well, that was better news than they had hoped. They had assumed she had died as well if they were being honest. The White Lady that they had known would have rather done that than be separated from her dearest wyrm. The Grimmchild proceeded to continue its now favorite hobby of gnawing on a spine of their mask. 

“Rest now, and we’ll continue in a moment.” Hornet yawned, shifting and drawing her red cloak around her. They stared for a moment at how tiny she still was, and then settled back against the glass walls. The air was cool and damp in here, and the light was less harsh. They enjoyed the way the plants rustled in a slight breeze, and the creaking of the now ancient pipes once meant to convey water. They would mention the possibility of a working spigot to Hornet later, maybe they could fix their water problem. The Grimmchild purred in contentment on top of their skull, its little fangs scraping against the battered surface of their mask. 

They’d keep watch over Hornet while she napped, feeling content about their abilities for the first time since the egg. 


End file.
